Luttrell Of Arran. Lever Charles James

at once, “‘Tis with news of her she’s come! She saw her ‘put in’ to Belmullet, or to Westport, or she saw her sheltering, perhaps, under the high cliffs of the coast, ‘lying to,’ till the gale lightened.” None would say more than this.

      “Hurrah!” cried one at last, with a joyful cheer, that made every heart bound, “I see Master Harry; he’s steerin’!”

      “So he is!” shouted another; “he’s settin’ up on the weather gunwale, and his head bare, too. I see his hair flyin’ wild about him.”

      “Go up and tell the master.”

      “Faix, I’m afeerd; I never spoke to him in my life.”

      “Will you, Owen Riley?”

      “Sorra step I’ll go; he turned me out of the place for saying that the cobble wanted a coat of pitch, and she sank under me, after. Let ould Moriarty go.”

      “So I will. ‘Tis good news I’ll have to bring him, and that never hurt the messenger.” And so saying, the old pilot hastened, as fast as his strength would permit, to the house.

      The door was open, and he passed in. He sought for Molly in the kitchen, but poor Molly was away on the beach, following the course the lugger seemed to take, and hoping to be up at the point she might select to anchor at. The old man drew cautiously nigh Luttrell’s door, and tapped at it, respectfully.

      “Who’s there? Come in; come in at once,” cried Luttrell, in a harsh voice. “What have you to say? Say it out.”

      “‘Tis to tell your honour that Master Harry – ”

      “What of him? What of him?” screamed Luttrell; and he seized the old man by the shoulders, and shook him violently.

      “He’s steerin the lugger, your honour, and all safe.”

      A cry, and a wild burst of laughter, broke from the overburdened heart, and Luttrell threw himself across the table and sobbed aloud.

      Overcome with terror at such a show of feeling in one he had deemed dead to every emotion, the old man tried to move away unseen; but just as he had closed the door behind him, Luttrell screamed out, “Come back. You saw him – you saw him yourself?”

      “No, Sir; but better eyes than mine did, and they could see that he had no cap on his head.”

      “And they were sure it was he?”

      “There’s no mistakin’ him among a thousand!”

      “If they deceived me – if this was false – ” he stopped and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “There, I see her now. She’s rounding to – she’s going to anchor. I have been poorly of late, Moriarty,” said he, in a low, subdued tone; “things fret and worry me, that I’d not let annoy me if I were stronger. Men of your stamp fancy there can never be much amiss with men of mine, because we have enough to eat and drink. What’s that noise without? Who is talking there?”

      The door opened suddenly, and Harry, with flushed face and wildly disordered hair, and with clothes all wet and dripping, stood before his father. He made no motion to embrace, nor even approach him, but stood within the door respectful, but not abashed, and as if waiting for leave to advance farther.

      Luttrell’s cheek trembled, and changed colour twice, but, subduing his emotion with a great effort, he said, in a tone of affected indifference, “You had rough weather – did you make Westport?”

      “No, Sir; we lost the boat.”

      “Lost the boat! how was that?”

      “She filled; at least, she took so much water that she would not answer her helm, and then she heeled over and went down.”

      “Down all at once?”

      “Yes; I had barely time to cut away our ensign from the peak. I thought I’d save the Luttrell colours, and so I did.”

      “Were you far from land at the time?”

      “About fifteen miles; as good as fifty, for the wind was strong off shore, and such a sea!”